


CHRISTMAS DUE

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Episode Related, Gen, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-06
Updated: 2000-02-06
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Just a short quip after the events of Good for the Soul





	CHRISTMAS DUE

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

christmasdue

**Author's disclaimer:** Although the story is mine,  
it  
is a work of fiction based on the character of Due South.All Characters  
portrayed here belong to Alliance. Please do not print/copy/download  
or send any part of this story to anyone else, other than for your personal  
enjoyment. Thank you.

This is just a little quip to go with the events of **Good For The Soul,** so obviously there are disclaimers as well. There is some direct conversations from the episode needed to understand Fraser's feelings, so please, don't hurt me. I just thought there were some unresolved conflicts happening there.Rated G. 

Visit my web page   
  

By **Amethys** t 

**CHRISTMAS DUE**

  
  
  


        The members of the 27TH Precinct and the Canadian Consulate milled around merrily as people opened gifts, sang songs, and consumed the goodies about them. Constable Turnbull, dressed in a red Santa suit and beard, was running through the station with a toy ray gun Kowalski had given him, calling 'Assassin Santa coming through!' someone was fitting Welsh with a Santa's cap and Inspector Thatcher was flirting with a tall, good looking officer. Diefenbaker was going hand to hand for treats that would make his stomach hurt the following morning   
         Constable Benton Fraser stood slightly apart from the cheerful group, close to his partner's desk, as he always seemed to, still dressed in his traditional red serge. He enjoyed watching everyone laugh and mingle in the spirit of the holiday. These were good people here and Fraser considered it an honor to be considered part of their group, even though he understood how very different he was.   
         As cheerful as everyone was, the way they attempted to include him in the festivities, they understood that the Mountie was just not a party person. Diefenbaker was going person to person, receiving entirely too many sweets for Fraser's liking, but since it was a party he'd let it go. He smirked; it wasn't as if the junk addicted wolf would listen to him anyway.   
        He took another sip of his drink and glanced across the room at Francesca Vecchio, who was staring out one of the few windows in the precinct, watching the gentle falling snow.   
She had seemed preoccupied lately, but had been unwilling to admit anything was bothering her when he had inquired earlier in the week, in fact she had been almost abrupt with him.  Then when she was hanging the mistletoe the day before, Fraser ran away like a coward at the idea he might be expected to go with the tradition and kiss her. Not that he didn't want to kiss her, he did, and he just was very shy and uncomfortable about it because she was Ray's sister.   
        After a brief moment of indecision, he decided to try and approach her only he noticed his partner had also been watching Francesca. Ray had an odd expression on his face and for once Fraser couldn't comprehend what Ray was thinking. Someone had put on Christmas music and the first song was an upbeat favorite.   
        A flash of decision swept over Kowalski's face as he quickly excused himself from Welsh and strode determinedly toward the sad looking civilian aid that was his pretend sister. He whispered something in her ear, as he grasped her arm, and she looked up startled. She was shaking her head, but Ray was already pulling her away from the window and pulling her into his arms.   
        She looked wary and flustered as they started to dance, Kowalski moving her to the gentle swing beat of the tune. At first she seemed uncertain, but soon her make believe brother was leading her into a delightful number of steps. He'd toss her away then pull her back, do a few quick steps in his arms, twirl her under his arm, then back again. The others had started to watch them and cheered them on.   
         The song changed and the tempo increased. Francesca was laughing as Ray led her into a more complex number, grinning the whole way through, and Fraser realized he'd rarely seen the detective so openly happy. A couple of the other women grabbed Dewey and Welsh to join the dancing and soon everyone was getting into the game. Those who didn't have a partner clapped or sang loudly, Fraser declined when asked, for fear he couldn't keep up with the others.   
          We Need A Little Christmas started, one of Fraser's favorites's, because it got faster as the music continued with each verse. He watched Francesca blow her bangs out of her eyes with a gathered breath, as she realized they were about to go faster, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. Kowalski spun her around him, rolled her over his back, twisting and turning so fast Fraser had to fight to keep them from becoming a blur as they kept up with the increasing tempo, yet Francesca kept to it and worked in perfect time with her partner. The other dancers had given up to give the pair more room, cheering them on.   
          Finally the songs changed to a traditionally slower melody and they stopped breathless, the squadroom applauding their efforts. Francesca was fanning herself as Ray led the petite woman, still a little shaky from the sudden stop in movement, to a chair at his desk, which she dropped into gratefully.   
         "That was wonderful." He assured them both with a smile.   
         "Good enough fer prize?" Ray teased.   
         "Certainly." Fraser agreed smiling. "What would you like?" Ray reached across his desk and snatched Fraser's Stetson.   
         "I get to wear yer hat the rest of the night." Fraser shook his head amused.   
         "That isn't much of a prize, Ray." He protested but the detective was already plopping it on his head gleefully.   
         "Is to me." He assured as Dewy approached.   
         "Hey! Fraser let you wear his hat?" the detective inquired surprised. Ray gave him a smug look and adjusted the Stetson deliberately. "Cool! Can I..." He had reached for it only to have Ray slap his hands away.   
         "Get yer own." He warned. "I earned dis, right Benton buddy?' Fraser nodded, though he couldn't see what the big deal about wearing his hat was, his partner seemed enormously pleased over it.   
         "You did indeed Ray." He confirmed and watched Ray give Dewy another sardonic glance.   
         "See?" he smirked delighted. "My partner, my Mountie, I get to wear da hat." Dewy grumbled good naturally and wandered off.   
         "What do I get for my prize, Fraser?' Francesca asked coyly and watched the Mountie blush.   
         "Oh...er....what...er..." She laughed and decided to let him off the hook as she turned her attention back to Ray.   
         "I'm beat!"  she exclaimed, but her color was high and she was smiling, an improvement over her earlier state. "Why did you do that Ray?"   
         "I felt like dancin'." He returned, as Fraser retrieved drinks for him both of the fruit punch.   
         "I...I didn't realize you were so good." she commented smiling.   
         "I've been tryin' ta tell ya this forever, Frannie." He winked at her. "I'm very good" She blushed and looked away, surprised at the sensations that roared to life inside her when he gave her that wicked-bad-boy look of his.   
         "That's not what I meant." She muttered shaking her head as Thatcher called out.   
         "Here we go!" The others gathered around as she passed out the tray of drinks.   
         "Constable?" Welsh offered Fraser a drink and the Mountie politely shook his head.   
         "Oh, no thank you, Sir." He declined as Francesca moved beside him.   
         "Hey! Who wants to make the first toast?"   
         "I've got a toast-toast." Welsh assured lifting his glass. "Bottom's up." Everyone laughed as he took a long swallow of his drink and Francesca shook her head at him then turned to the quiet Mountie beside her.   
         "How about you, Fraser?" she asked softly. "You want to make the toast?" Fraser looks up surprised.   
         "Alright...umm." Clears his throat nervously. "Christmas is more than just a religious holiday. It is a time that has come to have special meaning for people of...of many different faiths," he glances up and tilts his head slightly. "Or lack of them. My own Christmas' I remember with a great fondness." He quirked his head ruefully, unaware that Fraser Sr. is watching him quietly from behind. "And a certain sense of horror." He admitted chagrinned.   
        "Instead of turkey we had Arctic Turin." He pauses or the few giggles that sound around him, for he expected such a response. "Or a sea buck furbish instead of an evergreen. Search and rescue flares instead of Christmas lights." He pauses, listening to the heavy silence that now surrounds his words. " But I...I've learned to forgive all of that." His gaze meets Ray's across the way, who was still wearing his hat and watching hi intently. He can see the doubt in his partner's eyes, the guilt over the past few days. "Most of all, " he continued. "Christmas is about forgiveness. Merry Christmas everybody."   
         As everyone echoes his sentiment and raises their glasses in toast, Fraser looks away from Ray and stares off, the memories of past Christmas' and people lost to him settling over him in a melancholy curtain of regret.   
         "Hey!" Francesca remarked spotting the small white box under the table. "What's this?" She glanced under the small silver bow at the tag and rose with it in her hand. "Fraser it's for you."   
         "For me?" Fraser repeated surprised as she handed him the package.   
         "Yah." She confirmed giving him an encouraging pat on the arm before moving off. Fraser opened the box, curiously and pushed back the white tissue paper that hid the pretty silver frame from view. Fraser pulled it from the box and stared at the picture of a man, woman and young boy in Arctic weather gear, in wonder.   
         "What is it?" Ray asked moving closer to him, startled to find the blue eyes that rose to meet his were filled with unshed tears.   
         "It's my family." Fraser informed shakily as he returned his attention to the photo. A voice behind him wished him a Merry Christmas and he tried to swallow the knot that had gathered in his throat. "Merry Christmas Dad." He returned softly.   
    
  

          Kowalski finished his drink, then accepted another one as he moved past the well wishers toward his desk. Fraser was showing his photo to Francesca and Welsh and Ray still couldn't get over the look in the Mounties eyes when he had opened that box. Whoever had managed to get his partner such a touching gift should be given a medal, especially after hearing the rotten way Fraser had spent his Christmas' in the past.   
          He settled at his desk and lowered his head onto his arms tiredly. Despite all the hoopla around him Ray was exhausted, though he suspected a lot of his lack of energy was do to the heavy weight of guilt he was carrying on about Fraser's assault.  He should have listened to the Mountie, should have backed him up, that's what partner's did for each other. The look Fraser had just given him when he spoke about forgiveness did nothing to ease Ray's conscience, only made it worse to know the Canadian held no hard feelings for his partner's fraudulent slip of loyalty.   
          Fraser had managed to extract an apology from the arrogant crime lord, for slapping a young waiter, but not before he had been seriously beaten. Ray still felt guilty for not having backed his partner up until after the Mountie had been hurt, but his hands had been tied. He had done everything to discourage the Canadian from messing with Warfield, especially when the Mountie had taken up residence outside Warfield's club in an attempt to make the man do the right thing. He couldn't forget the disappointed and surprised look Fraser had given him when he had found the Mountie in that alley. Ray knew Fraser was used to being 'helped' out of certain situations he had gotten himself into and this time Ray hadn't come through for him.   
         Fraser had finally given up his pursuit after Ray carried him back to the station and Francesca Vecchio tended his wounds. When Ray had offered the Mountie a ride home his partner had declined, deciding to walk. The defeat in his eyes were too much for Ray to watch and right after Fraser had walked out the detective laid into Welsh and anyone else who would listen. Warfield got away with everything because the politicians were afraid of stepping on his toes or violating his rights. But what about the rights of the people Warfield have hurt or possibly killed? What about the young waiter who got belted for no reason? What about Fraser who was almost beaten to death?   
          They had ended up in a shouting match, Ray's volatile temper and his loyalty to Fraser forcing him to slam his badge on Welsh's desk. His partner and best friend had gotten hurt because he had chosen to listen to people who didn't seem to know who the real criminals were. People who would rather hide in their nicely decorated offices and debate trivial issues back and forth while people in the real world were getting beaten and murdered around them. He'd let Fraser down once and that wasn't going to happen again, even if he had to take on Warfield and the whole damn Mafia by himself.   
         He'd only made it to the parking lot; ready to climb into his car and go find Fraser, when Welsh, Dewey and Hewy intercepted him. Welsh told him he stood by his detectives, no mater how much of a pain in the ass they were, and he didn't need his retirement pension anyway. Ray had grinned as the Lieutenant tossed him back his badge then climbed inside while the Duck Boys went to get their car and followed.   
         They had found Fraser and talked him into joining them on a raid at Warfield's club, where they made a vow to more or less harass the hell out of the crime lord, to the point that even Warfield's own men refused to go to bat for him. Ray suspected the crime boss wouldn't be in business very much longer if he understood Mob politics and that was all due to his buddy Fraser, whom he had let down and allowed to get beaten.   
         "Are you tired, Ray?" Fraser suddenly asked him from beside him, he had observed the taught lines around the detective's face all evening, despite the Ray's attempt to seem jovial.   
         "Mmmm." Was his answer, his eyes remained closed. He was getting a headache, perhaps from being over tired or it could be the punch, but his head was suddenly throbbing.   
         "Perhaps we should go then." Suggested Fraser. "I'm more than ready to leave when you are, Ray." The detective didn't move for a second, then he reluctantly opened his eyes and stood up. Fraser helped him to straighten up slightly, suddenly concerned that the normally hyper detective may be too tired to drive. He hadn't seen Ray take more than two alcoholic drinks, but added to how tired he seemed to be it would make the detective slightly off kilter.   
         "Are you okay?" Francesca asked approaching them and noticing the blonde's weariness. He nodded.   
         "Yah." He assured running his hands over his face for a moment, trying to get some life back into him. "Let's go, Fraser. Do you need a ride home, Frannie?"   
         "I have my car, but thanks." She replied, still frowning with concern. Ray nodded and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair then waved as Welsh noticed he was leaving. The Lieutenant sauntered over to him.   
         "We scored one for the good guys, today, detective." he stated gruffly, perhaps also sensing Ray's doubts of his own behavior.   
         "Yah, just took longer than it should've, Sir."  He muttered wryly.   
         "Buck up, detective." Welsh ordered. "There'll be plenty more to catch in the New Year." Ray shrugged, yah, another year as Ray Vecchio, he added silently.   
          "I'll see you Monday." He offered and Welsh nodded as they wandered off. Ray and Fraser wished Francesca good night and headed out, Diefenbaker close behind.   
  

         Since Ray was so tired and had consumed some alcohol, Fraser drove them back to Ray's apartment building with the detective sitting beside him, still wearing Fraser's tan Stetson   
         "My Mum's comin' by to cook Christmas Dinner, Fraser." Ray commented from the passenger seat as he leaned his head back with a sigh. "Why don't ya stay over and chow down wit us. Promise no Arctic Turin, or whatever dat was ya said." Fraser smiled slightly.   
         "Thank you kindly, Ray." Fraser agreed politely. "It is kind of you to offer."   
         "Yer my partner, why wouldn't I?" Ray demanded with a hint of edge to his voice.   
         "I didn't mean anything by it Ray I..." Fraser defused quickly but the tightly wound detective had already started to simmer.   
         "Look, I know I screwed up, Fraser." He spat angrily. "I let you down I know dat, but it's just a damn dinner not..."   
         "Ray I am not accusing..." Fraser tried again.   
         "I mean we're still partner's right?" Ray continued as though the Mountie had not even spoken. "I'm sorry ya got hurt and I never meant...I mean if I had my way I'd kill Warfield fer what he did to ya but...I just didn't think...I should've..."   
          Fraser sensed his friend's distress and tried to decide whether it would be better to let him vent or stop his self incrimination before the detective had convinced himself he was dirt again.   
         "Ray." He began cautiously; knowing it was always a coin toss what way the Mounties words would affect the other man. Sometimes Ray was easily accepting other times he misunderstood and became angrier. "I do not blame you for what happened out side Mr. Warfield's club."   
         "You should." Ray muttered and Fraser tried not to sigh in relief that Ray was calming a bit. "I should'a backed ya buddy. Yer used to me being dere and I wasn't. What kinda partner....what kinda friend am I dat I would let..."   
          Fraser was thankful to pull into the parking lot of Ray's building, so he could concentrate fully on the man beside him. He switched off the engine and turned toward Ray in the darkness, the street lamp causing the detective to look paler than normal and his features were shadowed from Fraser's gaze.   
         "It was my choice, Ray." He stated firmly, willing his friend to believe him. "I admit that I was not...familiar with the system you are ruled by here." He offered Ray a rueful grin. "It seems my methods and standards for justice are often...unorthodox when compared with others. I set my standards to high and expect others to do the same."   
         "Do not do dat Fraser!" Ray exclaimed sitting up and turning to face him. "Dere's nothin' wrong wit yer standards, it's everybody else who is screwed up. Yer da greatest Frase, yah ya don't always think before ya get into things dat could cause problems, but dat's okay. I mean, if we all thought like you da world would be a better place, but we don't. People are too damn worried about steppin' on toes and makin' money, dey don't care like you do. I don't want ya to doubt yerself or stop carin' about people cause dat's why yer such a good cop."   
         "You care about others just as much, Ray." Fraser reminded gently; slightly embarrassed to have such compliments gushed at him, but pleased at the same time because it was Ray who was saying them.   
         "Not like you, Fraser." Ray denied uncomfortable. "Yer what da rest of us inspire ta be. Me, I'm just a guy who gets by on what he can do wit out getting' my ass fried or shot at. I just like bashin' heads and takin' names." Fraser shook his head.   
         "You're wrong Ray." He pressed. "I think you are very special. I see how concerned you are for people; I watch the way you throw yourself into each case with a determination and passion I can't even fathom. You care much more than any one realizes, Ray, even you." Ray looked away for a moment and silence rose between them.   
         "I care...." Ray began then faltered. "I care about you, Ben, an' I almost lost ya tonight because I didn't want ta run da risk of not goin' wit da flow. You coulda been killed and it would've been my fault for not being dere like a partner is supposed to." Fraser watched gave him a tender look, which only seemed to make things worse. "Take da car home, I'll get it later."   
          Ray threw open his door and stumbled out into the evening air, almost slipping on the snow beneath his feet, as he stormed toward the building. Fraser sighed as he got out, pulled the seat forward for Dief and locked up the GTO.  He followed Diefenbaker, who had run off to catch up with his favorite detective. Ray must have set quite a pace, because Fraser didn't catch up with him until he stepped out onto Ray's floor and watched the detective's apartment door open slightly to admit the wolf that had been scratching and whining outside of it.   
         "Ray?" Fraser inquired as he knocked on the door politely. After a moment the door opened again and Ray held out the Stetson, not meeting the Mounties's eyes.   
         "Forgot yer hat, sorry." He muttered, but Fraser ignored the offering.   
         "May I come in, please?" he asked calmly.   
         "Thought you were goin' home?" Ray defied reluctantly.   
         "I was under the impression I had been invited to stay the night." Fraser reminded. "Are you retracting your invitation then?" Ray hesitated then shook his head and moved away from the entry to allow the Mountie inside.   
         "Didn't figure you'd want to." He mumbled as he carefully set the sacred hat in it usual place on the breakfast bar by the phone.   
         "I wasn't aware you were telepathic, Ray." Fraser remarked as he shut the door behind him.   
         "I'm not." Ray denied giving him a confused look.   
         "Then how is it you can expect to read my mind?" Fraser asked kindly and watched the detective's lip quirk before he turned away and moved into the kitchen area to open the fridge.   
         "Wanna drink?" he offered and Fraser nodded, accepting the soda the blond brought him. "I'm bein' an ass I know." He declared as he dropped onto his sofa. Fraser regarded him with a quirk of his lips then settled beside him.   
         "It has been a stressful few days, Ray." He decided. "You have been under an enormous amount of pressure."   
         "So have you." Ray quickly retorted.   
         "Yes, but at my own doing no one else's." Fraser explained easily and Ray shrugged.   
         "I still feel rotten fer not backin' ya buddy." He sighed and Fraser nodded.   
         "I feel the same for not listening to you and putting you in that position, Ray." He offered.   
         "Dat mean yer going to listen to me when I tell ya somethin' from now on den?" Ray dared and Fraser rose an eyebrow, but his expression remained impassive.   
         "I always listen to you, Ray." He insisted mildly. "Then I do what I think is right." Ray grunted.   
         "In other words no, right?"   
         "It is Christmas, Ray." Fraser evaded. "A time for miracles." Ray glared at him then started to laugh.   
         "Yer a freak Fraser." He stated endearingly.   
         "Understood." Fraser returned warmly.   
         "Merry Christmas, Buddy."   
         "Merry Christmas, Ray."   
  

The End.   
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